“What?”
Clara smiled.
“My husband believes women should own things.”
“A radical flaw.”
Harlan stared at Elias.
“You transferred title?”
“Yes.”
“To her?”
“Yes.”
The man’s expression changed.
Briefly.
But Clara saw it.
Not surprise.
Concern.
Why would Harlan Voss care who owned the cabin?
Elias saw it too.
“What business is that of yours?”
Harlan recovered.
“None.”
He smiled at Clara.
“Welcome to Colorado.”
Then walked out.
Clara waited until the door closed.
“Who is he?”
“Land agent.”
“For whom?”
“Whoever pays.”
“You hate him.”
“Yes.”
“That is obvious.”
Elias picked up the flour sack.
“He has been trying to buy my spring rights for three years.”
“Why?”
“Railroad survey may come through lower valley.”
Clara frowned.
“I thought railroad ran south.”
“Current line does.”
“New spur being discussed.”
“And your spring matters?”
“Water matters everywhere.”
Clara looked toward the door Harlan had used.
“He did not like hearing I owned half.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Elias was silent.
Clara folded her arms.
“We have been practicing conversation.”
“I remember.”
“So?”
He sighed.
“A year ago, Voss offered me four thousand dollars for the southern meadow and spring.”
“That sounds substantial.”
“It is.”
“Why refuse?”
“Because the spring keeps cattle alive during dry years.”
“And?”
“And Nora is buried on the ridge above it.”
Clara's expression softened.
“He knows?”
“Yes.”
“So he kept asking anyway.”
“Yes.”
“I dislike him already.”
“That saves time.”
On the ride home, Clara thought about Harlan’s face.
Not mockery.
Calculation.
She knew that look too.
Frederick had worn it when debts came due.
Numbers moving behind eyes.
Two days later, a letter arrived from Baltimore.
Clara recognized the handwriting on the envelope immediately.
Mr. Edwin Pike.
Frederick’s former attorney.
Her stomach turned.
Elias noticed.
“Who?”
“No one.”
He looked at her.
She sighed.
“An attorney.”
“Yours?”